For Gotham
by Jetshinsei
Summary: Sacrifices have to be made to protect what you love. Bruce x Selina.


**For Gotham**

**_Summary:_**_ Sacrifices have to be made to protect what you love. Bruce x Selina._

**_Note: They're a bit older here, so hopefully it's not as skeevy as it would be if they were their current ages. Maybe._**

"You shouldn't actually give milk to cats you know," she says, stuffing one of the oatmeal raisin cookies into her mouth and draining the glass of milk in one shot.

Bruce glances at her from over his book. He hadn't heard her enter his room until she'd spoken. "You seem to like it okay." Never mind that the snack hadn't been for her to begin with.

She smiles then, milk mustache prominent across her upper lip. Her tiny pink tongue darts out and removes the leftover liquid, and he finds himself licking his lips in return. She quirks an eyebrow but doesn't say anything, slowly walking around the edge of his room as she stares him down.

He knows why she does it, looking at him as if she expects him to jump up from his desk and attack her. The pacing was her way of putting distance between them and keeping herself ready for anything, though he's never quite understood why she's still so cautious around him after more than two years of strong friendship. Plus, they'd already established _numerous_ times that even with training from Alfred, Detective Gordon, his jujitsu sensei, and herself, she could still take him down pretty easily if she really wanted to.

Her fingers suddenly reach for her zipper and she sheds the authentic black leather jacket he'd given her for her birthday, letting it drop to the floor as she continues to move around him. He swallows roughly when it's joined by her fingerless gloves, and then she's pulling her thin, dark grey hoodie over her head and tossing it into a corner.

She's wearing a worn Sex Pistols t-shirt and he belatedly realizes that, strangely, this is the first time he's seen her in anything less than a long-sleeved shirt. It's not until she kicks off her boots and shimmies out of her jeans that he shakes his head and forces himself to concentrate on anything but how incredibly long her legs look in what barely counts as black shorts.

"What are you doing?" he forces out through the dryness that had developed in his mouth.

"Getting ready for bed. Can't sleep in all that, can I?" She says it so matter of factly that he feels stupid for asking even though it had been a very legitimate question.

"You're sleeping _here_?"

"I can't?" Her green eyes are piercing and challenging, daring him to deny her. He knows something's wrong but it's hard enough to form a coherent thought with her standing in front of him like that let alone try to figure out what's going on underneath the mop of hair that he so wants to tangle his fingers in. Maybe being a detective wasn't in his future if he couldn't even manage to keep his brain from turning to mush every time a pretty girl was around.

"No, you can. I just...are you sure you don't want Alfred to prepare a room for you?"

"I can take care of it." She slides gracefully into his bed and tucks herself under his covers, hands resting behind her head as she stares up at him like she belongs there and if he's being honest with himself she really does despite the constant warnings of his guardian.

What's worse is that he _knows_ Alfred's right and he _knows_ that she's trouble but he joins her in bed anyway because he's a moth and she's the flame and if his wings get a little burnt because of her then at least he'd gotten to touch something beautiful.

He hadn't seen her in nearly three weeks, and he wants to ask her how she's been and _where_ she's been and if she's been eating alright and if she's keeping warm on the cold streets of Gotham but the words won't come as she rolls over and tucks her head underneath his chin. Her icy fingertips dig into his cotton pajama top, squeezing him for warmth and if he's lucky the protection he so desperately wants to give her.

So he wraps his arms around her, awkwardly at first but then tighter when she doesn't protest. He's doing his best to convince himself that this is all completely innocent and a natural progression in their friendship but he's both painfully and vividly aware that she's not _quite_ a girl anymore and she now has curves and her face is narrower and her lips are suddenly coming closer and _holy shit_ she's kissing him.

Fireworks explode behind his eyes as she moans quietly into his mouth. Sparks sizzle throughout his body and her bare leg intertwines with his and if Alfred caught them he'd never be allowed to leave the mansion again but he just can't find it within himself to care. He's barely aware when she breaks the kiss and nuzzles herself into his side, even less so when her breath slows and evens. He waits until he feels her body go slack and hears her breathing deepen before he allows his brain to stop wondering why she's here and what the kiss means and why her eyebrows are furrowed as she sleeps, deciding that he should just appreciate that she's here and eventually he feels himself join her in slumber.

She's gone again when he wakes but it doesn't surprise him anymore. She rarely stuck around long enough to deal with the inevitably awkward aftermath of their actions. He wishes he'd gotten the chance to speak with her a little more and worked up the courage to tell her what he needed to but maybe it was better this way. She'd be upset, but at least he wouldn't have to see her face when she found out.

He's about to stumble out of bed only to be startled by her walking back in with a tray of pastries and juice. She's still in her t-shirt and shorts that seemed even shorter than he remembered the night before but her hair looks brushed and her face shows signs of recently being washed. She sets their breakfast down on the bed in front of him before curling one leg underneath her and joining him on the bed.

"You're still here," he says, more to himself as he reaches for one of the glasses.

She blinks at him from over her own cup of juice. "That a problem?"

"No, it's no problem. I'm just a little...surprised is all."

They continue to eat in silence, casting furtive glances at each other every minute or so. Eventually Selena puts her cup down and glares at him. "So when were you gonna tell me that you were leaving?"

He's caught off guard because the only ones who knew were Alfred and Jim but suddenly the strange way she'd acted the night before was beginning to make a lot more sense. Now that he was 14, he felt that it was officially time to travel the world and vastly surpass the limits of what he could do on his own in Gotham. "I...I couldn't find a good time to."

She nods, but doesn't look any happier. Her hands are absently ripping her roll into pieces, throwing them down onto the tray as she stares at him.

"Are you coming back?"

He shrugs his shoulders and smiles slightly. "If I don't die."

"That's not funny."

"It wasn't supposed to be." She's still glaring at him, green eyes and pink lips not bothering to hide her displeasure. He feels the need to explain himself under her piercing gaze and forces an uncomfortable breath out through his teeth. "I have to do this."

Her eyes flash angrily. "You don't _have_ to do anything. what about…" she trails off, and he knows what she wants to say next and isn't bothered when she suddenly swallows back her next word. "...Gotham? Aren't you supposed to be it's savior?"

"That's why I'm going. I need to be better. _Stronger_. For...Gotham," he finishes lamely. It's not what he wants to say, but he can tell that she understands by the way her glare softens.

"Maybe Gotham is fine with you as you are now. Maybe you've already saved it."

His eyes widen as hers glance away. "Selina," he starts, reaching for her hand.

She snatches it away and leans back, crossing her arms as though she can't trust them not to reach back for him. "Well, have fun or whatever. If I'm dead by the time you get back, I'm sure you'll be able to track down my body with your new detective skills."

He frowns then, because he'd never truly considered the idea that someone as cunning and invincible as she could die of anything less than old age. "That's not funny."

"Wasn't supposed to be." She starts to back off of the bed but instead suddenly leans in and kisses him, much in the same way as their first only this time he's able to reciprocate at least a little before she decides she's had enough. She shoves him away and stalks around the room, hiding her face with her unruly brown hair as she gathers and puts on her clothing. she makes her way over to the balcony window and turns her head just enough to look at him from the corner of her eye but not enough for him to see her expression. "Come back," she says, and then she's gone-but not before he catches a glimpse of the tears staining her porcelain cheeks.

He stares at the spot she'd been, still breathless and somewhat guiltily. For a moment he considers staying, imagining his life where he's the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Cat is his wife and they have a beautiful little girl together with dark hair and bright green eyes. Alfred becomes her grandfather, and they all live happily together in mansion.

But then he imagines the three of them going to the movie as a family and they're in a back alley afterwards being faced with a hired gun and for the second time he's too weak to save his family and he remembers that he'd made a promise to himself that he'd never let himself feel that way again. Not even for the girl he loves.

So he sets his jaw, forcing the fantasy from his mind because he'd given up on his own personal happiness the night his parents were murdered and he absolutely _has_ to become the hero Gotham needs even if she doesn't know or understand it yet. "I will."

**AN: Wrote most of this months ago before the last few eps happened, so none what went down is in here. :( Also when are we getting pairing names in this fandom? Brulina? Suce?**


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